In the last two months being away from Nicaragua and living through some tough times, I have learned a great deal. One is the need for laughter, not the smiling-through-the-pain-and-sorrow…no, true laughter.I have a pet peeve that has come from working with the poor and hosting volunteers from the U.S. The peeve is when occasionally the volunteers comment, “These people are poor, but they are so happy.” Many will follow that comment with “It must be their simple life and the fact that they are not as stressed as the over-booked lives we live.”
These comments show an utter lack of understanding of stress. After working with the poor for over 30 years, I can only just begin to understand how stressful the lives of the poor are as they struggle day-in and day-out to survive. Their stress is magnified by dangers that threaten their very existence.
Also I know volunteers often can’t see in the short time here the deeper feelings that surround them…they often miss the pain of parents when they come to the clinic with sick children because, from the outside, the poor do “appear” happy because there is frequently lots of laughter. I quickly learned after being in the hospital, there is just so much “yucky” feeling one can stand and not go insane. Mike, my wonderful partner, has always been able to make me laugh…and so can all the children. It is a gift they inherited from their father. Though I had to hold my belly to keep from hurting, laughter released the needed endorphins in me.
Three weeks after leaving the hospital, my father died and I could not travel to go home. Nora, a good friend and long-time volunteer, flew from North Carolina to be with me. I would cry and she and Mike gave me hugs, but they also made sure to make me laugh.
Less than two weeks after Daddy died, we learned that my brother, Bobby, was diagnosed with cancer that has invaded his whole body.
Tiff, who we are staying with the most, comes home from work, puts on the news and then follows it with comedies. We often will sit around and tell stories of many years ago that makes me laugh and laugh. Coury and Cassie come comes to check on me and more laughter ensues. People call and I laugh. Am I happy? I often look happy. BUT I’m often still sore and tired from surgery. I grieve deeply for my father. I worry about the CDCA and Community with us being away for so long. And my heart is utterly breaking for my brother.
I’ve known that laughter has gotten us as far working with the poor in the States and in Nicaragua, but now laughter seems even more critical. I know that if I did not have people around me to make me laugh, to laugh with me and – in truth – oftentimes at me, I would curl up and stop. The poor cannot stop, so they find humor in the sadness, in the hurt, in the dark, dark places. Laughter is a survival tool. Laughter has the power to open light in the soul. It is also a gift, a grand glorious gift to be spread the world over. -Kathleen
